Rosa mulled over his words, aware that he was offering her a way out. It might not have been the way she would have chosen, but she wasn’t exactly being dazzled by choice, was she? ‘How long?’ she questioned. ‘Will we have to be married?’
He glimmered her a cool smile. ‘How does a year sound?’
‘Like eleven months too long?’
‘I can assure you that it will fly by,’ he said smoothly. ‘Because time always does. Before you know it, the year will be up and I will send you on your way with a fortune big enough to guarantee your independence and a lifetime’s memories of sexual bliss.’
Rosa met the gleam of his ebony eyes. His sexual boast was shocking and his arrogance was second to none, and yet. It seemed such a stupid thing to feel, but in the midst of all her confused emotions, she was aware only of a feeling of safety when she looked at him. Because whatever faults he possessed, she felt sure he would protect her. Nobody would dare come near her if Sheikh Kulal Al-Dimashqi was fighting in her corner.
Even if she could wave a magic wand—which is what she’d originally wanted—she knew now that her old life was over. She couldn’t go back. She’d fled to France and booked into a cheap hotel and sold an old family bracelet and nearly got herself laid. For the first time in her life, she’d felt as if she was really living—the way her brothers were allowed to live—instead of existing in the pampered little bubble they’d created for her.
She’d tasted freedom and found it a heady brew and she could never return to the life she’d known before. All those eyes watching her. All those unspoken codes she’d grown up with, and the expectation which came with them. That Rosa was a good girl and that one day she’d marry some suitable Sicilian who had been picked for her.
If she was going to have to endure the ignominy of an arranged marriage, then why shouldn’t she arrange it herself? Especially as this particular marriage had a get-out clause. She wanted independence and Kulal had offered it to her. He had offered her a generous pay-out too. For the first time in her life she would be independent! Imagine being able to do as she wanted, without having to run to someone else for permission. Her traditional family could not object once she’d got that all-important band of gold on her finger.
‘It’s a very tempting offer,’ she said.
‘I find it’s always wise to make your offers tempting. It usually gets people to agree to them.’ A smile slid across his lips as he slanted her a quizzical look. ‘And your “conditions” are?’
Rosa hesitated. She had been about to tell him that it would have to be a celibate marriage. That she would not have sex with a man who thought so little of women—a man who had been prepared to cheat on his ex-fiancée without a flicker of conscience. But she could see now that such a demand would be impossible to enforce. Could she really imagine saying no to the sexual advances of a man like Kulal Al-Dimashqi? Could she really picture herself trying to resist him? She felt the sudden lurch of her heart.
Not in a million years.
She looked at the black eyes which glittered in his hawk-like face and in that moment she suspected he knew exactly what she was thinking. She could feel her skin tightening as their gazes clashed in recognition—as if her body was silently acknowledging the sizzling connection which blazed between them. She might not like what he stood for and she might disapprove of his views on women, but she wasn’t stupid enough to deny that she wanted him.
The fact that he could treat his ex-fiancée so badly told her he wasn’t a man to be trusted, but what man was? Even her own uncle had cold-bloodedly bedded her mother! She wasn’t looking for trust, or softness—or any of the things which most women wanted when they took a husband. And with her family background, she certainly wasn’t looking for love. Her mouth flattened. Definitely not love. She wanted someone to show her how to become a woman in the fullest sense of the word—and Kulal would be the ideal candidate. She would take from him everything he was prepared to give and then she would walk away.
‘I’ve decided to waive my conditions,’ she said, her airy tone matching the careless shrug of her shoulders.
Kulal saw the way her colour had heightened and again he smiled. ‘I rather thought you might,’ he murmured, his gaze drifting down to where her luscious breasts were jutting against the satin of her robe. He could see the nipples hardening as he watched them and he felt the responding jerk of desire. ‘And that pleases me.’
‘But I don’t want my brothers finding out,’ she continued. ‘Because they’ll try and put a stop to this wedding, if they do.’
For a moment he contemplated the idea of challenging her brothers—or laughing aloud at the very idea that their supremacy could challenge his. But why fight a battle which was ultimately pointless? They would get their precious Rosa back when the year was up. ‘There are things we need to decide, but we can easily put them on hold.’ His voice was husky as his gaze drifted once more to her nipples. ‘And start occupying ourselves a little more pleasurably.’
She looked at him. ‘Meaning?’
‘You know very well what I mean, Rosa. Your body certainly gives every indication of doing so. And there’s a bed right over there, just waiting.’
Rosa flinched as she crossed her arms over the betraying tightening of her breasts. ‘Don’t treat me like a whore, Kulal,’ she said quietly. ‘Or I’ll walk away from this proposed union right now.’
He saw the way she had lifted her chin. Saw the glint of steel which had entered her dark eyes—and in that moment she looked very proud and very Sicilian. A formidable woman, he recognised as he inclined his head in a gesture of grudging acknowledgement. ‘Very well,’ he said softly. ‘If such games amuse you, then we will obey convention and wait a little longer—and the anticipation will add spice to my growing hunger. I shall send a car for you in the morning. And in the meantime, you might want to give some thought to some appropriate attire.’
Her fingers touched the slippery silk lapel of her robe. ‘What do you mean—appropriate?’
He wanted to say that stark naked would be his first choice and the skimpy crimson dress which had done such dangerous things to his blood pressure would be a close second. But not in public. In public she was going to have to play the part expected of her. They both were.
‘Something which a future princess might wear on the way to meet her prince.’
She thought about the few clothes she had flung into her suitcase just before her impetuous flight from Sicily. ‘I’ll try.’
‘And make sure you bring all your belongings with you.’
She looked at him warily. ‘Why, where am I going?’
‘To Paris.’ He gave the ghost of a smile. ‘To begin your new life.’
CHAPTER SIX
A NEW LIFE.
Kulal’s words played repeatedly in Rosa’s mind the following morning as she crammed down the lid of her suitcase. Was it possible to just shrug off your old life and emerge without any traces of it clinging to your skin? She snapped the suitcase closed. All she knew was that she was going to try—she was going to lose her troubled past and step out into a new and unknown future as the sheikh’s bride.
Remembering Kulal’s directive about appropriate attire, she chose a silk chiffon dress the colour of raspberry sorbet and black shoes which made her feel very tall—but she wore no jewellery, not even the ring her father had given her for her sixteenth birthday. Platinum bright and studded with emeralds, her hand felt strangely bare without it for she was never without it glittering on her little finger. But now it seemed to mock her and the relationship she’d enjoyed with her father. It made her question whether that, too, had been false, like everything else around her.
Had he known? she wondered. Had he realised before his own violent death that the daughter he’d so adored had been the child of the brother he detested? Had he been broken-hearted and careless as a result—dropping a match in that cavernous old warehouse which he and his brother had owned so that they had burned to deat
h, their tortured cries carrying out on the hot, Sicilian breeze?
She was grateful for the loud knock which broke into her troubled thoughts and she opened the door to find Kulal’s driver standing there. Wordlessly, he took her suitcase from her, leaving Rosa to follow him. But her questions about Kulal’s whereabouts were met with a polite shrug. As if he didn’t understand what she was saying—even when she spoke to him in French—and Rosa got the feeling that he understood her very well.
Her feeling of isolation grew as the car headed out towards the airport and she peered out of the window at the upmarket holidaymakers. Against the azure backdrop of the sea, there were women in tiny shorts, big sun hats and even bigger pairs of sunglasses as they hung around the harbour areas, as if waiting for an owner of one of the luxury yachts to pluck them up and sail them away to paradise. She thought how carefree they all looked as they fished around in their giant leather bags. As if they had nothing more taxing on their minds than when their next coat of lipstick needed to be applied. She wondered if they even noticed her—the woman in the expensive limousine being taken to marry a man who was little more than a stranger.
The powerful car slid to a halt at the Nice airport and she was escorted straight out onto one of the airstrips, where a large plane stood waiting on the tarmac. Its gleaming jade-and-rose bodywork reminded her of some oversize exotic bird and a steward wearing matching livery ushered her on board. The light in the cabin was dim and it took a moment or two for her eyes to adjust to the sight of Kulal reclining on one of the seats, reading through what looked like a pile of official paperwork. He looked utterly relaxed, with his long legs stretched out in front of him and one arm pillowing his ebony head. Reluctantly, she ran her eyes over him in unwilling appraisal, unable to deny the sheer physical perfection of the man.
Did he hear her quiet intake of breath? Was that the reason for his enigmatic smile as his gaze flicked upwards?
‘Don’t look so frightened, Rosa,’ he said softly, his eyes making their own leisurely journey down over the entire length of her body.
‘I’m not frightened,’ she answered, trying to convince herself it was true, even though that lazy scrutiny was making her skin tingle in a very distracting way. She told herself that she’d met enough powerful men in her twenty-three years to make her impervious to them. But she’d never met anyone who had looked at her quite like that before. He had removed his jacket and was wearing dark trousers and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up. She could see the crisp sprinkling of hairs on his powerful forearms and, despite his relaxed pose, she was very aware of all the latent strength in his muscular body.
‘Come over here and sit down,’ he said, patting the elongated seat beside him.
She approached with the caution of someone walking towards an unexploded bomb, knowing it would sound naive if she complained that the angle of the seat made it look more like a bed. Yet a couple of days ago she’d wanted more than anything to find herself in bed with him. She wondered what had happened to that new and confident Rosa Corretti, who had looked at this man and decided that she wanted him.
Was it because this morning he was exuding a sex appeal which seemed intimidating and for the first time she realised that he was planning to deliver? That things had moved beyond the hypothetical and sex had become a reality. She was aware that his initial relaxed pose had gone and been replaced by a sudden tension—as if he, too, had suddenly acknowledged the close confinement of the aircraft cabin as the outer doors slammed shut.
She slid into the seat beside him, aware that he was still watching her, his dark eyes seeming to drink in every move she made. She told herself that she mustn’t be intimidated. That she needed to be more like the woman who had pole danced her way into his line of vision, rather than the one whose heart was now beating out a thready tattoo. ‘I hope that what I’m wearing is “appropriate,”‘ she said.
‘Utterly.’ He watched as she smoothed the delicate material of her dress over her bare knees. ‘You will need an entirely new wardrobe to cope with the demands of life as a princess, of course—though I don’t imagine you’ll have much of a problem with that. I’ve yet to meet a woman who doesn’t salivate at the thought of buying new clothes, especially when someone else is picking up the bill.’
Levelly, she met his gaze. ‘Are you going to spend all your time denigrating women?’
‘Not all my time, no.’ His smile was edged with pure danger. ‘I’m sure we’ll be able to come up with something more exciting to fill our time.’
‘Because …’ She didn’t want to let this go. She didn’t want him to keep making comparisons—because wouldn’t that just tap into her crippling certainty that she was going to disappoint him? That he had signed up for something and was going to get something completely different. ‘I’m sure your knowledge of women is comprehensive—it’s just a little off-putting if you’re going to keep reminding me of the fact.’
‘I’m sure your knowledge of men is equally comprehensive, Rosa.’
‘You’d be surprised.’
‘I doubt it. I’ve yet to meet a woman who surprises me.’
Rosa gave a little shake of her head. What a cynic he was. Shouldn’t she have tried to hook up with someone softer—and kinder? Someone who wouldn’t have whirled into her life like a very sexy tornado. The plane engines began to flare into life and suddenly she started to laugh—the unexpected sound taking her by surprise because it seemed a long time since she’d laughed at anything.
He raised his eyebrows. ‘What’s so funny?’
‘Everything.’ She looked at him. ‘Within the space of a few short hours I’ve become the kind of person who steps onto a private jet with a man I don’t really know—a man I’m going to marry. I’m going to be a princess and I’m going to live in Paris and I don’t have a clue what my life will be like. It just doesn’t …’ Her voice trailed off as she met his eyes and shrugged. ‘It just doesn’t feel real, that’s all.’
Once again, Kulal saw that fleeting look of vulnerability—the one which didn’t match the sensual lips and hedonist’s body. The one which was making his gut twist with an inexplicable unease. ‘If it’s any consolation, it feels pretty bizarre to me too,’ he said flatly as the irony of the situation hit him—not for the first time.
He should have been contemplating matrimony with a high-born royal from a neighbouring country but instead he found himself with Rosa Corretti, the daughter of a nefarious Sicilian family with a terrifying reputation. One who flaunted her body like a hooker, but who had since denied him all but the briefest kiss.
His mouth twisted into a hard smile. He could feel the exquisite hardening of an erection beneath the fine cloth of his Italian trousers and he shifted his body a little. Why should he have to wait a second longer to enjoy all the sensual possibilities which her beautiful body offered?
From the galley, the steward appeared with a tray and Kulal said something terse in his own language, so that the man set the drinks down on the table and then quickly disappeared.
Rosa saw the way that Kulal’s knuckles had suddenly clenched against the hard outline of his thighs. ‘Is something wrong?’ she asked.
‘Something is very wrong.’ Turning to her, he lifted his hand to touch her face, his finger slowly tracing the outline of her lips. ‘You are driving me crazy, Rosa. I am aching to possess you and I cannot wait much longer.’
Rosa swallowed as he moved his hand downwards so that it was now lying directly over her breast and she wondered if he could feel the wild beat of her heart. His words were so … brazen. He made sex sound so straightforward—as if doing it and wanting it was perfectly natural—but she had no idea how to answer him, because she had been brought up to think that it was wrong and forbidden.
‘You are silent,’ he observed, his fingers now drifting down over her belly before coming at last to rest on her knee. ‘That is good. So often a woman destroys the mood of love with her inane chatter.’
P
art of her wanted to scream at him for his arrogance, but no scream came—and how could it, when his hand had now drifted beneath the hem of her dress and she was holding her breath to see what he would do next?
His fingers began to slide upwards and Rosa’s eyes closed as desire began to flicker over her skin—a desire which was powerful enough to obliterate any lingering feelings of guilt. He was drawing little circles just above her knee and, while it was exciting her, it was also frustrating the hell out of her. She began to wish that he would touch her somewhere else—touch her where she was beginning to ache like crazy. And maybe her restless little wriggle told him that, because his fingers had now crept up to reach the bare skin of her thigh. The warmth coiling somewhere deep inside her began to spread over her whole body and she could hear the loud thunder of her heart. Her thighs seemed to be parting without any conscious action on her part, and she expelled a breath of disbelieving pleasure as his fingers brushed intimately against the searing heat of her sex.
‘Mmm,’ was all he said.
‘Kulal,’ she breathed.
Waves of shock and excitement washed over her as he pushed aside the moist panel of her panties and began to move his finger against her aroused flesh and Rosa thought that nothing had ever felt this good. Nothing. She could hear strange, gasping little sounds echoing around the cabin, which she realised must be hers. She could feel the tension as her body strained towards something tantalising which seemed just out of reach. Something which surely promised more than it could ever deliver. And then it happened—almost without warning—like a shower of fireworks exploding unexpectedly in the sky. She found her body contracting with the most exquisite sensations, the force of them taking her by surprise. It felt like flying—and then afterwards it felt like floating down into some dreamy place, all boneless with the pleasure which was still washing over her. She gasped aloud as her head fell back. Her tongue snaked out to touch her mouth and even that made her sensitive lips tremble and for countless minutes she just lay there, drifting in and out of the most incredible daydreams.
A Whisper of Disgrace Page 6